boston {h.s.}

quatre.

"WE'RE GOING BRIDGE jumping. Coming with?" I look up at my brother as he pokes his head into my bedroom. His hair is short and his facial hair is longer than I typically prefer it. Identical as we are, I do find there to be shocking disparities between our appearance. Most notably: he is taut and muscular. He is lean and built and chiseled. I'm softer on the edges, rounder, plumper; mostly due to personal choice, though, I hardly mind the implications.

Rather last minute I found out that Coley wouldn't be coming with the guys for the last practical weekend at the Cape house that Jack and I bought together. Typically, I am insist that Jack bought it. I was only able to throw in a couple of measly coins that were not absolutely essential to my survival leftover from my meager teacher's salary. Jack was the one who put down the big money. Coincidentally he is also the one who insists that we bought the house together. Out of the two of us, he obviously is the more humbled. The irony of the situation is not missed. After all, he is the one of the two of us that has more of a right to be cocky in his abilities.

Since I found out about my new friend's lack of presence, I've retreated upstairs. Not opposed to spending time in the company of my brother's teammates, I found this weekend to be nothing out of the ordinary. Futuristically speaking I know that I'll have plenty of time with the guys for months to come. Years, for some of them. During hockey season, I've come to expect their presence around me almost as much as my own shadow. Those boys are like an extension of my arm half the time.

The sun is beginning to set outside and dusk is upon us. "Now?"

Jack nods his head, his fist lightly bouncing off the doorframe as he looks around my room. It's relatively plain; not my typical style. This house is composed of whites and light blues: the epitome of Cape living. Unnecessarily Jack had hired a designer for this house when we bought it and she was the one to insist on the consistency of the white throughout the house. Hypothetically it makes the already large house seem bigger and it appears sleek and modern. Jack ate up every word. "Mhm, high tide is in thirty minutes."

"Where?"

"The usual bridge in Sandwich," he explains, staring at the stack of books that sit by my feet.

Kicking them to the side, I stand up. "I'll go," I agree. "Not sure if I'm jumping in."

"You have a—" awkwardly, my brother's hands gesture up and down his body in some sort of attempt to convey the word bikini. My brother is many things and shy is not one of them. Many have joked that he must have been the type to come out of the womb already chatting up a storm. Still, he gets shy when mentioning these kinds of things around me. All his common sense flies out the window.

"Bikini," I emphasize for him as I walk over in the direction of my dresser here. "Let me check."

He nods his head, not speaking, grateful that I had interjected. A quiet overcomes us then, but it is not uncomfortable in the slightest. Twenty-five years of my life have transpired with my brother at my side. We've been damn near inseparable since birth. Long silences are the least of our concerns. He's one of the few people that I don't mind sitting with in a complete silence, only the sound of our thoughts existing between us. If his teammates are an extension of my arm, I would consider Jack and extension of my brain.

"Yeah," I say after a minute, looking through my options. Most of my summer, beach attire lives here year round. I've enough options to sift through. Uninterested in making some sort of resounding impression, I grab the one on top. It's red and plain and looks like the color of my favorite lipstick. "Get out." I say, shooing him as I continue grabbing articles of clothing from the drawers: grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt to change into once I get out of the water. Regardless of how warm it is now, I know that I'll be freezing after.